Sorry these reports are late, but I hope you enjoy them. They need pictures which can be seen on my Facebook page 60 in Africa
Nouakchott
I spent most of the evening trying to find a reasonable hotel in Nouakchott. There doesn’t seem to be many, but they are all expensive. I looked at an overlanders auberge, which was cheap, but I’m not ready for that yet. The 2 star hotels were ridicules, so I ended up in a nice 4 star. No, wait a minute, let me explain. I had been to most that I could find Booking com only listed three and 2 of those were expensive crap. I was passing this 4 star hotel and I thought why not chance my hand. So I went in. Of course the price quoted was very high, but I had nothing to lose by making a stupid offer, which I did, but instead of kicking me out, he said he couldn’t go that low, but he made a counter offer, and so the fun began. I said his offer was way to high. he then wanted to show me the room, mentioned about a million times the great swimming pool and gym that they had. I could see the pool from the reception and it was nice, the last thing that I wanted to do before we agreed a price was see the room. He and I both knew that that was the deal maker. I said no, and continued to argue. Shamefully I did bring my new found power into the negotiations, which again impressed and gave me more leverage. In the end he came down to within €3 of my first offer, after a little more puffing, sucking breath through my teeth and putting my helmet on and off, I accepted. the price was no more than £5 higher than what the 2 star hotels had been, the was great thing was it came with real air con, just what I needed after a day in the desert.
I decide to spend a little time in Nouakcott, rather than just flying through, well ok, I was enjoying the luxury, and didn’t want to give it up just yet. After breakfast I spent the following morning, catching up with a few things, then asked the security staff, where I would find local food. They were only to pleased to show a Jamaican, who, joking aside, they really do revere as true, uncompromising, Blackmen the best of their local cuisine.
The cafe was very basic, and if I’m honest I did wonder if there was a price to be paid later, indeed if the Mauritanians were having the last laugh, but there was only one way to find out. Having asked the “waiter” what was traditional, he said the Koftu with Riz, This was more a cross between hotpot and Jamaican Saturday soup. If you don’t know about Saturday soup ask the next Jamaican you meet. The meat I didn’t really establish what it was, it could’ve been lamb, goat or even camel I would guess, and a plate of rice. I can report it was ok, not the best meal I’ve ever had, but ok and all was well more than three hours later.
After eating, I thought I’d take a look around, Marrakesh didn’t really prepare me for this. It’s clearly market day, and it looks like Mauritania loves markets, There are hundreds of taxis, lots mini buses and vans doubling for mini buses. Throw in the odd donkey cart and you have the perfect recipe for total madness, and that’s what it is. Horns are going, but no one seems to be losing their temper. Even though they may keep their hand on the horn when they’re three or four cars away from the blockage, there are no waving of arms, jumping out of the car, with any in your face shouting. There are shoppers everywhere, with enough stalls to make Petticoat Lane look like a village fete. All are well stocked with fruit, vegetables, flip-flops second hand sandals being polished to a shine you could shave in. There’s New York Rap fashion, traditional hawks, socks, electrical apparel. Most of what you expect to see in a market, but streets and streets of it. Then there’s the sounds it’s mayhem, but an orderly mayhem. I get back to the hotel, just before sunset, hot and bothered and glad of the air conditioning. When I ring home, I’m told that it’s trying to snow, ha, who’s crazy now?